


The Dark

by novadiablo



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Semipublic Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-02
Updated: 2011-11-02
Packaged: 2017-10-25 15:22:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/271816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novadiablo/pseuds/novadiablo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock cannot think in the dark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dark

John felt his heart beating in his ears as he ran down the hallway behind Sherlock, through an open door. After that the ground disappeared from under his feet and Sherlock caught him around the waist, stopping him from falling but unfortunately unable to prevent him from rolling his ankle. They hobbled down the stairs, their harsh breathing the only thing breaking the silence. It was so dark John couldn't see his own hand, could only feel Sherlock's around him. They slumped against something that was probably a wall and John gingerly felt his ankle for swelling.

"Is he going to come after us?" he panted to Sherlock, who was beside him and recovering quickly.

"No, I threw my shoe through the window so he'll think we went through there."

John ignored the fact that the shoe had probably cost more than he made in a month and focussed on Sherlock massive error.

"Sherlock, it was the second floor that we were on!"

"Yes," Sherlock said in his voice that indicated John was very stupid, "and I'm Sherlock Holmes, and you got a sprained ankle for your troubles anyway."

John shrugged, because Sherlock was right, he probably would jump out a second story window.

"So how are we going to get out?" He asked, because Sherlock generally thought about one hundred and two steps ahead, so he'd know.

"I don't know."

John froze. Shit. Why not?

"How the hell can you not know!"

"I can't think in the dark," Sherlock said very quickly, but his voice broke on the 'k'.

John frowned at this but was more surprised by the admission.

"You can't think in the dark?" John stated, deadpan.

"No, yes, no – I can, just not about cases or survival or stuff." Sherlock uttered awkwardly.

"So… why not?"

Sherlock shrugged.

"Why can't you think in the dark, Sherlock?" John began, teasingly.

Sherlock turned away and shrugged again.

"Why not Sherlock?" he mocked, poking him.

"Shut up John your voice is making it worse."

"Making what worse?"

They sat in silence for a moment and Sherlock's breathing became ragged.

"Are you okay, Sherlock?"

A clipped "Fine."

"Why can't you think in the dark, Sherlock?" John asked, seriously this time.

"My brain associates dark with sex. When Mycroft and I were younger we had a very strict nanny who tucked us in tightly with our arms above the sheets and left one light on all the time and I eventually figured out why and now when it's dark I can only think about sex."

John couldn't help it. He tried, he really truly did, kept his mouth closed until his ribs ached but when he burst out laughing he didn't feel any guilt.

"And so that's why you never sleep!" he eventually panted out between giggles.

"Shut up!" Sherlock yelled and punched him in the arm, but he was laughing too.

"And why you always have the lights on?" John was doubled over by now, but a sharp pain from his ankle brought him back to reality.

"It's pretty stupid, I know."

John realised that Sherlock was talking as close to a human being as he had since they'd met. The whole thinking about sex thing must have him pretty distracted… but if he's thinking about sex then did he have a…

 _"Shut up John your voice is making it worse."_

John scrambled backwards and hit his head on a shelf. "Sherlock, how can you have an erection when it's only me and you in the room?"

Sherlock was silent and John felt a wave of lust run through him, which wasn't right at all. What the hell was his body thinking? Sherlock had an erection over John and he should find it disgusting? Right? RIGHT?

John crawled a little closer and then hiss as Sherlock unlocked his phone. "Ah, bright lights!" John almost screeched as Sherlock sighed and said, "I can think again."

"What are you doing?" John asked, crawling closer. Adjusting his eyes he saw an address and the basement in a text sent to Lestrade. The message was sent when John had a good idea.

He pressed the lock button the top of the phone and swung his legs over Sherlock before he could react, effectively straddling him. Then John crushed their mouths together and it was around then that Sherlock brain short circuited. He grabbed onto John's hair and pulled him closer while John – always to the point – undid Sherlock's pants and dug his hands in, but was interrupted by Sherlock pulling him up and pushing him against the wall.

Finding the leverage better this way anyway, John concentrated hard on giving Sherlock at least a mediocre hand job, which is a difficult feat when a man you have suddenly become insanely attracted to is pulling on your lip with his teeth and moaning like a sexy injured rhinoceros.

He gripped the warmth and experimentally pulled, and an almost painful bolt of pleasure ripped through him at the noise Sherlock made. This wouldn't last, John knew, by Sherlock's harsh breath and the impending entry of Lestrade and Co. However, as wet kisses were smushed into his neck, John heard the words 'Fuck me,' very clear in his ear.

"Not now, Sherlock."

"Please John," Sherlock moaned as John circled his fingers around the tip. He could feel Sherlock's body against him and it took all of his will power to not just drop his pants and take the man against the wall.

"Later, I promise."

Sherlock looked up at him, his hunched body barely able to hold its own, with hooded eyes and red lips and nodded. Well, there was no backing out now, John thought, as he whispered 'Come now', into Sherlock's ear and was rewarded with warmth spilling over his hands and the softest moan he'd ever heard. John buttoned Sherlock back up as best he could with the consulting detective a dead weight, but of course that was the point when Scotland Yard's finest burst through the door and switched on the light.

It was like Sherlock's 'ON' switch had been flicked as well. He stood straight up, but there was no denying what had just gone down. He had sweat dripping down his face, his eyes were drooping and his lips were red, and his hair… oh god his hair. John felt an odd straining against his jeans.

John walked out awkwardly, but Sherlock was already back on task as though nothing had happened. He was discussing the man with Lestrade loudly and flailing in all different directions, giving very direct instructions, after which Lestrade sent five of his men to the closest Primark.

They sat in the cab on the way home, Sherlock texting madly and John watching the orangey sky with a small amount of dismay. John ran up the stairs and flicked the light on, but as he was taking off his coat, darkness fell over him and a body was pressed up against his.

"You promised."


End file.
